Excerpt from All I Need – Crescent City, Book 1

The following is an excerpt from the novel All I Need, first in an exciting new romance series by debut author Jamie St. John. If you enjoy this excerpt, you can pick up All I Needright here.

Kylie – Now

His mouth is a doorway to magical taste and
sensation. I melt with desire to melt with him. Our tongues dance, like our
bodies so recently, but with more force, like no amount of contact is enough.
With each writhing motion I want more. The kiss is everything Holy Communion
should be, a sharing of flesh, divine and dripping with sweet revelation.

When he
pulls away, I lunge forward, needing him back in my mouth. Another song starts,
but the spell doesn’t break. I’m ravenous for him. He says something about
getting a room, and somehow I manage to answer.

He kisses
me again, and we leave the club in a rush, sole passengers on a bullet train
burning carnal fuel. Somewhere between the club and the hotel, I realize I
never bought the second round of drinks, and start laughing like a crazy
person.

He stops
and asks if I’m okay, if I’m sure I want to do this, if maybe I’ve had too much
to drink. But the only thing I’m drunk on is the need to be as near to him as
possible. I’m in danger of thinking beyond the night, about what might happen
tomorrow morning when I wake up in his arms, if I wake up in his arms, if he
doesn’t leave before dawn’s first light. I think about what might happen if I
see him again before my vacation is over. I think that I’m thinking too much
and quell my thoughts with another deep kiss.

I love
everything about this. I love that we’re still in costume, our faces covered by
masks. I love that I don’t know his name. More than anything, I just love how
caught up in it I am, back in New Orleans and pulsing with expectation.

Somehow I
hold it together while I pay for the room. I overcome his objections, first by
telling him that he bought me a drink, then by telling him that if he buys us
breakfast tomorrow, we’d be square.

The middle-aged
woman at the front desk can barely contain her smirk as I fumble with my credit
card. She knows what’s up. I can read it all over her flushed face as she hands
me the receipt.

“Have fun,”
she says with a wink.

The
elevator ride to the room on the fifth floor is too long. I want him now. We
share few words. Mostly, we just look back and forth at each other, giggling
like children and occasionally sharing more kisses as reminders of what’s
coming later and can’t come soon enough.

Nerves
abuzz, it takes three tries to get the room key to work. He asks again if I’m
sure I want to do this. He says we can stop whenever, and I believe he means
it. There’s no whiny disappointment in his voice. His features hold concern,
but it’s clearly concern for me, not for whether or not he’s getting laid
tonight. I’m a good reader of people and his expression exudes empathy.

“I’m more
than sure,” I say, and with that, I finally get the door open.

When we
enter the room, time slows down even more than in the elevator, but this time,
I don’t resist it. It’s always better to take your time.

I cross the
room and face him. He hasn’t moved from the doorway. He watches me for
instruction. I love a man who can let go of control. While I don’t deny the
existence of benevolently dominant men, I’ve yet to meet one myself.

“Okay. Rule
one: masks stay on.”

“Okay with
me.”

“Rule
number two: you will wear protection.”

“Oh, shit.
Should I run down and get some? I think there’s a convenience store across the
street.”

“Not
necessary. I always carry condoms in my purse, because, well, I guess you never
know.”

I watch him
closely for one sign of judgment, one indicator that he’s the type of man who
would shame me. Believe it or not, even in the twenty-first century, such men
exist.

“Cool,” he
says. “That will save us some time.”

He smiles
then. I can tell he is a little nervous now.

“Don’t
worry. I’m healthy.”

“Same. I
just… well, I guess I don’t normally do this.”

“That
sounds like a line, but for some reason, I believe you.”

“I also, I
dunno. I kind of get the feeling that you don’t either.”

Now, that’s a shocker.

“Well, if
we still had our drinks, I’d say we should toast to trying new things.”

He laughs
and I join him. After something like fifteen seconds, we stop.

“So, who
gets undressed first?”

“Maybe we
should do it together. On three?”

“Okay. I
like that.” Then he bites his lip. “Well, maybe I should get a head start. This
hat leaves me more to shed.”

“Fair
enough,” I say, glad to get a full view of that fantastic hair.

He removes
the hat and I stare, admiring the wavy locks. I can’t believe how thick they
are. I can hardly wait to run my hands through them.

“Okay,” I
say. “One-two-three.”

We take our
time. I don’t know how much time has passed before we’re fully naked, but I’m
grateful for it. Anticipation is my favorite part of lovemaking. We stand
there, examining each other. I’m not crazy about letting men give me a full
inspection when I’m disrobed, but something about this man is so disarming, I
want him to see me naked, to examine the goods before he signs on the dotted
line. I even do a little twirl so he can look at my ass and whatever else
catches his fancy back there. I’m partial to the back of my neck, myself, a
space of flesh tattooed with a butterfly.

I face him
again and can see he is pleased. I try not to notice a man’s cock before
anything else, but in this case its’ challenging not to. He’s rock hard, and
his length extends so that the head of his penis reaches his navel.

The body
that houses the organ is not too shabby either. Clothed, he appeared
deceptively wiry, almost frail and birdlike. His large hands should have been a
dead giveaway though. He is anything but frail. His abs are like eight polished
stones lined up in two perfect columns. Pecs are similarly smooth, and just as
firm. His arms are lean and sinewy. His legs are like a runner’s. Aside from
some strange pink scars near his color bone, his body is pretty much flawless.
Either he’s got a great workout regimen, or he was grown in a lab from
top-of-the-line genes.

I utter a
breathy “wow,” before I can stop myself.

“Wow bad or
wow good?”

I take a
step toward him. “I think you know.”

We close
the distance between each other. The eye contact holds steady with each step.
It’s like we’re in a trance, each of us a space particle caught in the
gravitational pull of the planet between us, a world made up only of our mutual
desire.

We kiss,
and I’m pleased to discover that we’ve lost none of our momentum. It’s like
we’re dancing again, this time even closer together, connected at even more
points, with nothing to keep us apart. We dance our way to the bed.

He kisses
his way down my torso, each touch of his full lips a warm drop of exquisite
oil. I stop him at my waist, taking a fistful of hair that feels as amazing as
it looks.

“You should
let me first,” I say. “If we go straight from blowjob to sex, you probably
won’t last long.”

“Wow,
that’s incredibly forward.”

“I’m not
knocking your stamina. It’s just physics. If I get you to an eight on the scale
of flaccid to thar she blows, and then put you inside of me, it will be over
way too quickly.”

“Wow.
You’re really confident about your head game.”

“I’ll get
you to the brink. Then you can go down on me. Then intercourse. Longer lasting
intercourse, especially with the aforementioned protection.”

Before he
can help himself, he’s in stitches, cheeks flushed and laughing like he’s heard
the latest, filthiest version of The Aristocrats joke.

“What?” I
say, trying to stifle my own giggles.

He catches
his breath. “I guess I’m not used to this kind of honesty or planning.”

“Is that a
problem?”

“No, it’s
kind of nice, actually.”

“Great.
Then get your ass on the bed and let me suck your dick.”

He stands
up straight and salutes, which looks all the more ridiculous given his nudity.

“Ma’am,” he
says.

Then he’s
sprawled out on the bed waiting for me.

“How fucked
up would it be if I just left?”

“You
wouldn’t even bring your clothes?”

I grin big
and get down on my knees between his muscular thighs. When I take him in my
mouth, he gasps and grips the bedsheets in tight fists.

Oh, he’s gonna be a fun one.

And he is.
Everything is. It’s great. As close to a perfect lay as one is apt to get,
really.

But then a
disaster happens.

After I
collapse on top of him, spent and climaxed out with my juices a puddle in and
around his crotch, after we’ve gone through positions tried and true and even a
few new ones, and after he comes, filling the condom with his pleasantly
scorching seed, and it feels so good I almost wish I hadn’t made him wear one,
after all that, the worst thing I can possibly imagine happens.